Only In The Space Of Dreams
by DaystoDawn
Summary: For Yullen Week Day 1; Yearn. It was impenetrable, what held them apart. But if he wished with all his heart, sometimes it wouldn't seem so bad. For a short while, at least.


**This was hastily written, so I apologize for any mistakes! I may or may not do stuff for the other days; we'll just have to wait and see. Please enjoy!**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man, I only own the half-assed plot. If I did own it, I would rape Kanda every day. ._.**_

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**Yullen Week Day 1: Yearn**

The clock ticked on, monotonous and rhythmical. He looked over, taking a quick glance through his bangs. From behind the strands of white, we saw it was not the right time just yet. He turned his head away from view, making exasperated faces to himself. His socked foot tapped softy on the concrete floor, and he very gently bit his lip. Patience had never been and strong suit of his, and while his stay here had greatly improved it, it was still, by no means, an outstanding trait of his. He chewed his lip slightly harder, in an attempt to keep himself from looking over again. This was a practice he'd recently become accustomed to. It was a precautionary habit, lest his odd action become noticed.

He got off his small bed, slowly, so as not to look suspicious. He walk over his chest of drawers, and pulled out the small, rollable keyboard they'd given him some time ago, and absentmindedly began plinking at the keys, causing small, incoherent melodies to rise up from it. His fingers faltered a little, and he let his music book fall to the side, in a pretense the look once more. No, still not time, though it sort of looked like it almost was. He sighed, picking his booked up, and caught the other boys eye. The other boy blinked before sneering at him and turning away. As the back of that dark head reach his eyes, Allen's face turned read, and he seethed with anger. Unconsciously, his hands brought forth a faster, harsher tone. However the song softened lightly as he realized this exchanged gave him the perfect excuse to have a little extra time. He affixed his glare to his face. For the next few minutes, he keep his eyes trained to the form of the other boy, who, in turn, ignored him.

Though he the other boys actions used to incense his, in truth, Allen had long since become resigned to his disregard. Now he just accepted it and used it as a reason to have some form of interaction with him. Out side of the rooms, it gave him cause to speak to him, and ask him why he would turn his back to him. Allen retracted his glare, admitting to himself that really, his false anger still barely got the other boy to talk to him, even in proportion to the amount of time they were permitted to speak with each other. He pressed his teeth into his lip even harder, before stopping himself and disengaging them. It would to no good to anyone if he made himself bleed. He let out a deep sigh, and was about to will his fingers to create a sweet melody to calm himself, before he hazarded another glace. And lo and behold, it was finally time.

The other boy had dragged out the plush pillow from under his bed and was sitting cross-legged on it. Experience told Allen to wait until his chest movements became even before moving. In the past, not doing so had earned him a have opened eye and a full faced scowl. Squirming in his seat, Allen waited with baited breath as the older boy situated himself. While he waited, Allen's eyes went through their daily routine of taking in every inch of the dark haired child. Long hair was tied up tightly and militantly, the only sign of vanity being the bangs and two strands framing his face. A serious, yet almost peaceful look rested itself upon the elder child's face, and his lips were in a straight line, which was the closest Allen had ever seen to his smile. Caloused hands lay palm up over his knees, and, not for the first time, Allen wished he could reach out at hold them.

The other boy, whose name Allen knew to be Kanda, had finally evened out his breathing, and Allen decided it was time to make his move. Quickly and stealthily, he slipped from his chair to the small ledge, sitting on his knees and resting his arms on the white surface as usual. He leaned as close as his could, without smooshing his nose, and simply starred.

He knew from speaking to the others that was Kanda was doing was called "meditation". They said it is a very prominent practice back in Kanda's homeland, a place called "Japan". It was supposed to relax the mind and the body, and give it an inner balance. At least that was what Allen thought it did. He supposed that if that was it's purpose, then, in a way, this was Allen's meditation as well. During it, he like to think that he and Kanda were sitting next to each other, sharing the moments. Sometimes he even let his imagination take him away to a world where he and Kanda could always speak to each other, to a world where they laughed and played and spoke without venom in their tones. He would pretend that they were close enough to shake hands, or even hug. Sometimes they would even sleep in the same bed, and the neither of them would be lonely.

Allen supposed they would always be lonely. He was, and he knew the other boy was as well, having once, when he first arrived, caught him crying to himself. He figured loneliness was simply a part of life. Still, it was nice to, in these little snippets of time, imagine a life where it was not. His favorite was a world where he and Kanda were always side by side, going on crazy adventures with magic and a little bit of danger. Sometimes he would think about what it would be like to sit right next to Kanda, close enough to be pressed side to side. Every time he tried thinking of that, he would become flushed and would have to stop himself. It was just too strange of a notion, he guessed.

As time went on, what is most often wondered was what Kanda thought of during his meditation. Did he dream of magic and big open skies and magnificent journeys like Allen did, or did he wonder of other things. One of them had once told Allen that older boys think of thinks like kissing and hugging and other silly stuff. While Allen could picture the ever-stoic Kanda as the type to do so, he figured it was a possibility.

His eyes mapped every bit of Kanda as he thought, and when his hand moved from it's position on his leg, Allen followed it. He wanted so dearly to see what his skin felt like. Allen did not dare ever to ask to touch it, at risk of it being thought odd. His hands looked so rough, most likely from practicing with that wooden sword of his. Allen's hand were soft, save for the tips, which were rough from his keyboard. He gently felt them, trying to picture a whole hand like that. It moved past the closed eyelids on the passive face. Allen always did his best to remember the deep sapphire hue that he knew was behind them, so like the pictured of the deep ocean he'd seen. The hand, having finishing it's task of brushing stray hair from Kanda's face, fell back to it's place. Allen turned his attention to Kanda's ever-growing hair.

His hair was a mystery to the younger child. Allen's own hair was rough, and slightly coarse. It's unnatural whiteness contrasted so deeply to Kanda's own waterfall of black thank it sometimes dizzied Allen. Kanda's hair had always looked like liquid silk. He wanted to place his own head on Kanda's to see the difference, but he knew that request was simply out of the question. If anything, he'd like to run his hand through the inky tresses just once, to see if maybe then would stain his hand. Slowly, in response to his thoughts, his hand moved up reaching out, towards it's dark destination. He gently rested it upon the cool window pane, something he'd never dare do before. His other hand reached up to join it's partner, and Allen, as if in a trance, pressed his face to the glass with them.

How he wished, more than anything, that he could removed this clear barrier, and join Kanda on the other side. Just to be able to hear him breath, to move, would be a blessing. His breath fogged the translucent surface, and he imagined his hands pushing the window away and telling Kanda 'Hello' and 'How do you do?' His figured Kanda would do nothing more that grunt and turn away, like when they let them speak, but any noise at all would be welcome.

Suddenly, he realized that the other child had been meditating for some time, and had begun to stir. Quick as lighting, Allen bolted from his spot on the floor and scrambled into his chair, his face hidden behind his music book. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kanda get up and place his pillow away, before getting his wooden sword out and running through his practices. Allen bit his lip again at the brief glimpse at the calm look on Kanda's face. He then reconsidered his earlier thought. As the handprints faded from that un-scaleable wall, he found that watching Kanda did not calm him at all. If anything, Allen thought, it just left him lonelier and sadder, and made him want so much more for that glass to disappear.


End file.
